


Family Way

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Enterprise is en route to Vulcan, and Trip, T'Pol and their little son have to face T'Pol's family, who declared her an outcast because of her marriage. Then something happens that changes everything. (04/17/2004)





	1. One Week From Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

There was a lot of dust down here. A lot of dust indeed, but Trip didn't really notice. He was groping around in the dark under the bed, desperate to find the pacifier, which he prayed would finally stop his six-week-old son's screaming.

Sam had woken up half an hour ago, had started wailing and all Trip's efforts to quiet him had been futile. He had changed him, he had filled the baby bottle and had tried to feed him, he had worn a path in the deck carrying Sam around the room, but to no avail.

Sam was screaming and screaming, and he was not going to stop anytime soon since there was no pacifier to be found in the whole damn quarters. Trip knew for sure that there had to be one under the bed since he had accidentally kicked it down here yesterday when Sam had spit it out. He groped around some more.

"Why on earth can I never find these damn things when I really need one, and when I don't they're lying around everywhere?" he grumbled, got dust in his mouth and coughed. Just then he heard the door swish open.

"What are you doing under the bed, Charles?" T'Pol's voice asked. She had to raise her voice to be heard since Sam was still screaming at the top of his lungs. Trip crawled out from under the bed and got up, dusting off his clothes.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he snapped. "You know what, I get the impression he hides them. Or eats them, just to drive me nuts."

T'Pol arched an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

"Pacifiers! I can't find any of them, and he's been screaming for _hours_!" T'Pol walked over to her desk.

"They are right here, Charles." She opened a drawer and produced a pacifier. "I put them in this drawer as I told you just this morning." She walked over to Sam's crib and a moment later the screaming stopped. Trip sat down heavily on the bed.

"So he didn't hide them after all. You did."

T'Pol allowed herself a small sigh.

"You are being illogical, Charles. I gather it was quite an exhausting afternoon?"

Trip shot her a glare. "You gather correctly."

T'Pol gave the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, obviously deciding it was no use talking to him now. She sat down at her desk, picked up a padd and began to read. Trip watched her for a moment, already feeling sorry for taking his frustration out on her. It wasn't her fault that it had been his turn to stay with Sam this afternoon, and it wasn't her fault that Sam had been cranky, either. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said. "It _was_ quite an exhausting afternoon. You know what, we both could use an evening off. Wanna go to movie night later? Hoshi's going, and Malcolm said he might drop by, too."

T'Pol looked up from her padd.

"If Sam is not in a good mood today it might not be wise to take him with us to movie night," she said, raising an amused eyebrow.

"We'll ask Jon to babysit," Trip grinned.

"Will the Captain not attend as well?"

Trip shrugged. "It's time he started fulfilling his duty as a godparent."

"He stayed with Sam last Friday," T'Pol said. "And Ensign Mayweather was babysitting him the Friday before. In any case I am not sure if I can come with you tonight. I have to make a call."

Trip looked at her questioningly. "Who're you calling?"

T'Pol looked down. She hesitated for a moment, then she said quietly: "I decided to call my parents before we reach Vulcan. I wanted to ask them if they would like to see their grandson."

When he saw her expression, Trip had a sudden feeling of dj-vu. It was only a few weeks ago when he had asked his mother the same question, and her reaction had been far from positive. He knew T'Pol's parents hadn't spoken to their daughter for over a year, ever since she had informed them of her marriage. As far as he knew, they didn't even know about Sam.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked carefully. T'Pol didn't raise her eyes.

"I am not sure. But I feel I have to try, at least."

Trip gave her a thoughtful look. It was very unusual for T'Pol to talk about her feelings that openly. He didn't think she would come very far trying to talk to her parents, though. Remembering how he had felt when his mother had refused to accept Sam as her grandson, he wished T'Pol could be spared that anguish and disappointment. But clearly it was very important to her to try.

"Do you...do you want me to leave?" he asked, already getting up. He was sure she'd want to be alone while she made that call. She looked up at him.

"I would appreciate it if you stayed," she said. Trip was astonished when he looked into her eyes and saw something he had seldom seen there before. T'Pol was afraid.

"Sure, honey, I'll stay," he said, pulling up a chair to sit down beside her. She nodded at him in grateful acknowledgement and turned back to her desk. She switched on her computer screen and typed a combination of numbers. Vulcan letters appeared on the screen. T'Pol punched in another code and the letters disappeared to be replaced by a blank screen. Trip frowned.

"What's up?" he asked.

"They are connecting my call," she answered.

After a few more seconds the screen lit up again. The face of a stern-looking man with black eyes and greying hair appeared. There were a few moments of silence before he opened his mouth.

"T'Pol," he said. There was no surprise in his voice, no expression at all. "What do you want?"

"Father," T'Pol said, and only someone who knew her as well as Trip did would have heard the tension in her voice. "I wanted to inform you that Enterprise is en route to Vulcan. We will arrive in approximately seven days."

The man raised an eyebrow, but apart from that there was no movement on his face at all.

"Why are you calling?" he asked. Trip fought to keep the anger he felt from showing on his face. T'Pol's father was clearly refusing even to acknowledge his presence and he knew that if he were to interfere it would only make things worse. T'Pol hesitated for a second, then answered:

"Father, this is Commander Charles Tucker, my husband." Trip nodded politely, but the man never even looked at him. Trip felt T'Pol tense beside him, but she continued bravely.

"We would be honoured if you and mother were to receive us in your house. Us and our son."

The Vulcan didn't even raise an eyebrow at that.

"No," he said, and his voice betrayed no emotion at all. "You should not have called. I told you you were not to contact us again. You dishonoured your clan and your family. Your marriage with that human was vre'skon."

The UT hadn't translated that last word but Trip could very well imagine what it meant. He felt a sudden hatred for that man who was so cruelly rejecting his own daughter.

"Sir," he said, trying to keep his temper under control. "Won't you at least listen to her—"

The man reached down and all of a sudden the screen went blank. T'Pol sat motionless, staring at the screen. Trip hesitated for a moment, not knowing if she wanted him to touch her now, not knowing what to say.

"What about your mother?" he asked finally. "She doesn't want to talk to you either?"

T'Pol looked at him. "I do not know. I have not spoken to her since before our marriage. She agrees with my father, I suppose."

Trip saw the sadness in her eyes and suddenly felt the urge to call that man right back, to tell him what an asshole he was and that he had no right to do this to his daughter. But he didn't voice his feelings. Instead he put an arm around T'Pol and pulled her close.

"Just try not to think about it anymore, okay?" he whispered. "He doesn't deserve that you care."

T'Pol said nothing, only leaned against him and closed her eyes.

* * *

Reed set up the last meter, checked the settings one more time and got up. Taking a step backwards he examined his handiwork. He 'd come to the Armoury half an hour before his shift officially began to prepare the EM field test that was scheduled for today. Nobody else was here yet. Glancing at the chronometer he decided that there was still time to recheck the measuring data from the last test before T'Pol showed up. She had agreed to assist him with this experiment, asking Trip to stay with Sam this morning so she could come down to the Armoury.

Reed wanted to use the latest results in EM technology Starfleet had sent them to try and stabilize the particle flow in the EM field he was working on. He was glad T'Pol had found the time to assist him, since she knew more about EM technology than anybody else on this ship, including himself. Turning away from the screen he checked the chronometer again. It was exactly 0800 hours and just as he had expected, that very moment the Armoury doors swished open and T'Pol entered.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," she said, taking a short glance at the set-ups for the test, and came over to his console.

"Good morning, Subcommander." Malcolm got up from his seat. "I'm glad you found the time to take a look at this. I hope Trip didn't mind staying with Sam this morning?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Actually, he welcomed this opportunity to sleep in, for once."

Malcolm chuckled. "Let's just hope he'll wake up when the baby's crying."

"I agree." T'Pol looked at the data displayed on the screen before her. "I suggest we begin with the tests now."

Sitting down at the console she called up the new Starfleet data while Reed activated the EM barrier. The field crackled to life, and Malcolm frowned, looking at his instruments.

"It's still off by 3.475 microns."

"I will try to increase the voltage to stabilize the particle flow," T'Pol said, pushing a few buttons on her console. Reed shook his head.

"It's still fluctuating. Try to increase density as well."

T'Pol complied and the numbers on Malcolm's screen dropped to 3.045.

"I think it's working. Cut down the voltage and try to increase density a bit more."

When the numbers dropped even further Malcolm felt an excited flutter in his stomach. "That's it! Keep increasing the density by small amounts."

For a while they worked in silence and Malcolm's excitement grew stronger as he watched the fluctuation steadily decreasing. After a while he glanced over at T'Pol who was efficiently operating the controls of her console.

"Why hasn't Trip been at movie night yesterday?" he asked, calibrating the fluctuation scales of his instruments. T'Pol answered without taking her eyes from the screen.

"He felt quite exhausted yesterday night and decided he would rather go to bed."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows but didn't ask any further. In silence they continued their work. The numbers on Reed's screen were already approaching 0.5 microns when suddenly the readings changed. Malcolm frowned.

"You should take a look at this, Subcommander. I'm not sure what happened but it seems that something's going wrong here."

T'Pol got up from her seat, came over and took a look at the screen.

"Step back, Lieutenant!"

He looked at her, startled. At the same moment she shoved him back hard and he saw white light blazing up behind her. In the next second he hit the deck, pain stabbing through his left shoulder while the force of the explosion shook the floor. He heard T'Pol cry out and something fell on him, pinning him to the deck. More pain flared up in his shoulder. He opened his mouth to scream and almost choked on the thick smoke that got in his throat. He tried to move, tried to free himself of the weight pressing him down and suddenly realized that it was T'Pol lying on top of him. Carefully, he wriggled out from under her and struggled to his knees.

T'Pol was sprawled on the floor, face-down, lying motionless. Green blood was soaking through her uniform and she was covered by splinters of debris which had cut deep into her back. With shaking hands, Malcolm felt for a pulse, relief washing over him when he recognized a weak, unsteady heartbeat. He got his feet under him and stood up. For a moment he was sure he was going to be sick, but then the dizzyness subsided. Stumbling, batting away the smoke that was blurring his vision he made his way over to the comm unit.

"Reed to Sickbay." he said, coughing, his voice roughened by the smoke he'd inhaled.

"Phlox here." The doctor's voice sounded alarmed.

"You're needed down here in the Armoury, immediately. T'Pol—" Reed coughed, trying to clear his throat from the smoke. "T'Pol's hurt."

"I'm on my way. Phlox out."

Reed slumped against the wall, fighting to get his breath back. He looked over at the still form of T'Pol lying on the floor, straightened up again and pushed the comm button once more.


	2. Loved Ones

The intercom bleeped.

Trip groaned, turning over and burying his head into the pillow. He tried to ignore the noise, but the bleeping persisted. Sighing he pushed the covers aside, sat up and hit the comm button.

"Tucker."

A strange noise came over the intercom, sounding almost like a cough.

"Reed here. Trip, you'd better come down to the Armoury. Quick." Malcolm's voice sounded strained. Trip frowned.

"What's up?"

"There was an explosion. T'Pol's been hurt."

For a moment Trip sat frozen with shock. As he tried to get up, his feet got tangled in the covers and he nearly stumbled. With shaking hands he pulled on his pants, almost stumbling again in the process. Taking a quick glance at Sam's cot where the baby lay still sleeping, he rushed from his quarters.

As he entered the Armoury, Phlox and his medical team were already there. The room smelled of smoke and burned wire and there was debris strewn everywhere. Trip's eyes fell on T'Pol who was just being lifted onto a gurney by Dr. Phlox and Crewman Cutler. He felt his knees weaken. She looked—dead, green blood smeared everywhere. She didn't move at all when they lay her down on the gurney.

"Trip." He felt a steadying hand on his arm, turned his head and looked into Malcolm's pale face. There was a deep gash on the Armoury Officer's forehead and his left arm was dangling limply at his side.

"What...what happened?" Trip managed.

"I don't really know." Malcolm's voice sounded rough as he spoke. "Suddenly the instruments went haywire, and then the whole thing exploded. T'Pol was standing right in front of it..." He trailed off. Trip looked back at Phlox and his team, who had just finished securing her on the gurney. Somehow Trip managed the few steps towards T'Pol, sinking to his knees beside her. As he looked at the back of her uniform drenched with blood he felt his stomach clench. He raised his head and looked at Phlox, who was just pressing a hypospray against T'Pol's neck.

"Will she ...will she make it?" he asked, his voice sounding as rough as Malcolm's. Phlox looked up at him.

"I don't know yet, Commander. I need to take her to sickbay immediately, though. Please get out of the way. Ensign Li..."

One of Phlox's assistants helped Trip to his feet, gently pulling him aside as they carried the gurney away. Not letting go of his arm Ensign Li guided Trip towards the door, motioning Reed to follow him as well. On the way out Malcolm opened his mouth once or twice as if to say something, but Trip didn't notice.

He stared straight ahead, blindly following Li as he guided them to sickbay.

* * *

Trip sat on one of the bio beds, staring at the closed doors of the operating room. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even hold the glass of water Ensign Li had brought him half an hour ago. Li had also offered to give him something that would help him "calm down", but Trip didn't want any tranquillisers. He had to be awake when...

Fear twisted his stomach so hard he thought he would be sick. He wanted to get up, to pace, do something that would make this terrible numbness go away, but he knew his legs wouldn't support him. Trip had never realized before that fear could actually hurt.

Two hours ago they had taken T'Pol in there, closing the doors, leaving him alone with nothing to do but wait, sitting here dreading the moment when Dr. Phlox came out again, telling him it was over. Trip closed his eyes, trying not to think of T'Pol on that gurney, pale and spattered with blood, but the image wouldn't go away. That was how he would remember her, the last time he had seen her alive...Despair welled up in him and suddenly he couldn't bear it any longer. Trip buried his face in his hands and felt the wetness between his fingers.

Just then he heard the sickbay doors open.

Please let it not be Malcolm, he thought, I can't deal with that now, can't have him telling me that it was all his fault...After Reed's arm had been set and splinted, the Lieutenant had tried to talk to him, saying something about an experiment gone wrong, clearly blaming himself for what had happened, but Trip hadn't really listened. He'd just wanted him and Li to leave him alone, and after a while they had given up trying to make him talk. Li had sent Malcolm to his quarters to get some rest, and the Armoury Officer had gone, not looking back at Trip who'd hardly noticed him leaving.

Trip didn't raise his head as he heard footsteps coming nearer. A warm hand rested on his arm.

"Trip." Jon's voice. Trip looked up to see Jonathan Archer standing beside him, a concerned expression on his face. He looked paler than usual, but it might as well have been the harsh light of the ceiling lamps outlining his features. As he spoke, his voice was very soft.

"Trip, maybe it'd be better if you got out of here for a while."

Trip shook his head. He knew Jon was trying to help him and he appreciated it, but at the same time he just wished they would all go away and leave him alone.

"Thanks, Jon," he managed to say. "I need to be here when..." He bit down on his lip hard, but he couldn't keep the tears from running down his cheeks. Angrily he wiped his hand over his face. He didn't want to cry. If only he'd leave me alone, he thought desperately, but of course Jon had no intention of doing so. Instead he sat down on the biobed next to Trip and put an arm around his shoulders.

"It's ok," he said quietly. "I'll stay here with you. Hoshi's taking care of Sam now."

Trip nodded. When they had arrived in sickbay two hours ago, Archer had been there too, but then he hadn't tried to talk to Trip, seeing that his friend was in no condition to listen to anyone at the moment. He'd just quietly offered to go to Trip's quarters and look after Sam, and Trip had been grateful that there was someone who didn't ask any questions but just took matters in his hands.

Now Jon didn't ask any questions either, just sat there with his arm around Trip's shoulders, and Trip realized that he didn't want Archer to leave, after all. Somehow Jon's presence was helping him to get a grip on himself and he was able to ask the question that had been pounding in his head ever since the doors had closed behind T'Pol and the doctor.

"What am I gonna do if she doesn't make it, Jon?" he whispered. Jon held him tight and there was a moment of silence before he answered.

"She's going to make it, Trip. Phlox is the best doctor I've ever known. He'll be able to help her, I'm sure of that."

Trip closed his eyes. The confidence in Jon's voice was reassuring, even though Trip knew Jon was trying to sound optimistic. It was no use going over the same questions again and again. All he could do was wait, trying to be ready for whatever was coming.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. When the doors of the operating room swished open, Trip startled. He raised his head and saw Phlox who was pulling off his surgery gloves, looking rather exhausted. Trip opened his mouth but his throat was too dry and no sound came out. Archer's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Doc?" he heard Jon ask, his voice tense. Phlox looked up at them, his usual wide smile rather weary.

"She'll live."

Relief washed over him, so intense it made him feel faintly sick. Trip never even felt the tears running down his face when Jon wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. Distantly, he heard Jon's voice:

"How is she?"

Phlox didn't answer immediately and Trip turned away from Jon, looking at the doctor who had taken a seat on a bio bed next to them.

"She has a severe cranial trauma," Phlox said after a moment. "I was able to keep her alive, but barely." Phlox looked down at his hands. "She seems to have lapsed into a coma."

Trip felt his throat constrict. He swallowed.

"Will you...will you be able to help her?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. Phlox shook his head.

"I'm not sure. Head injuries are always extremely dangerous, and I can't tell for sure what effects it will have on a Vulcan's brain. I'm sorry, Commander. That's all I can tell you at the moment."

Trip nodded, feeling Jon's hand on his arm.

"Can I see her?" he asked. Phlox got up from the bed.

"Certainly. She's in the IC Unit now."

On unsteady legs, Trip followed the doctor. There was only one bed occupied in the small room, the drawn curtains hiding it from view. Phlox pushed aside the thin fabric and motioned Trip and Jon to come closer. Trip's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on T'Pol. She looked small and fragile in that bed, surrounded by life support instruments, small lights flashing steadily. Except for a dark bruise on her left cheek there was no visible injury, but there seemed to be no life left in her, her pale face vacant of every expression. Trip cleared his throat and looked up at Phlox.

"Could you...could I have a few minutes alone with her?" he asked. Phlox nodded.

"Of course, Commander. We'll wait outside."

Jon squeezed his shoulder one more time, then he followed the doctor out of the room. Trip pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. Carefully he took one of her hands lying motionless on the blanket, holding it in his own.

"T'Pol. I'm here, T'Pol. You know that, don't you?"

There was no sign she had heard him, but her hand was reassuringly warm against his skin.

"Don't give up," he whispered. "You hear me? Don't you die on me. I need you. And Sam does too. We both need you so much."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Not letting go of her hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed. For a long time he sat there, looking down at his wife, not uttering a single word.


	3. Sleepless Nights

Restless, Trip turned over and adjusted his pillow. He laid back down, forcing himself to close his eyes and lie still. Since T'Pol's accident three days ago he had been tossing and turning every night, not able to get more than one or two hours of sleep. He had never realized how much he had gotten used to her warm and calming presence beside him. Now that she was gone the bed seemed empty, and he was lying awake at night, thinking of how terribly he was missing her.

He had visited her in sickbay every day, sitting at her bedside holding her hand, but the woman he was missing hadn't been there; only her body, surrounded by instruments that were keeping it alive. Secretly, he had been relieved that he could never stay for long since he had to take care of Sam. The baby had been crying a lot these last few days, probably missing his mother just as much as Trip did. Jon had relieved him of duty so he could stay with Sam, and with nothing to do, there was no way to escape the dark thoughts weighing down on him.

Sam, who had been stirring restlessly in his sleep, started to cry. Trip got up and walked over to the crib. He picked up the baby and rocked him gently in his arms. Very soon, Sam's eyes drooped and he seemed to go back to sleep, but as soon as Trip bent down to put him back in his crib he opened his mouth and started to cry again. Trip hesitated a moment, then walked over to his bed with the baby in his arms and sat down. He looked at his son, who had closed his eyes once again, and he smiled slightly.

"Trying to keep your dad awake, huh? That's not very nice of you, now is it. Oh well, I guess it's all the same. I'm not going to be sleeping anyway..."

Looking at the sleeping baby's face Trip had the impression that one of Sam's eyebrows was twitching slightly. I really need to get some sleep soon, he thought, shaking his head as if to clear it. He felt strangely light-headed, probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten much today. Well, actually nothing. Jon had come by around noon and had brought him some lunch, but although Trip had been hungry, he hadn't been able to eat anything.

These last few days he hadn't been in the mess hall at all. Sitting in his quarters all day was bad, but facing the concerned questions and expressions of sympathy of the crew was even worse. The short visits of Jon, Hoshi and Travis created a welcome diversion, though, especially since they didn't ask too many questions, seeing he wasn't willing to discuss his feelings just now. The three of them had stopped by at least once a day, sometimes just to say hello, sometimes staying to chat a little.

Malcolm, on the other hand, hadn't come to see him at all. Trip knew why, of course. Jon had told him that although Malcolm was officially on light duties he hardly ever left the Armoury these days, trying to find out what had gone wrong.

Trip knew Reed was blaming himself for what had happened, but he just hadn't found the strength to go and talk to him yet. He didn't want to talk to anyone at all. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to work so he would be able to concentrate on faulty circuits and minor malfunctions, things he could fix, and wouldn't have to think of anything else.

He looked down at Sam who was sleeping peacefully in his arms.

You look so much like your mother, he thought. Every time I look at you, I remember how she...

Quickly he pushed the thought aside. In two days they were going to reach Vulcan. Phlox had said T'Pol's only hopes lay now with the Vulcan healers. They seemed to have certain techniques to influence a healing process by entering a mind meld with the patient, and Phlox was quite confident—or at least tried to give the impression—that on Vulcan they could find a way to help T'Pol. Holding Sam close to his chest, Trip placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

"You're gonna get your mom back, you hear me?" he whispered. "You're gonna get her back."

* * *

Reed walked down the empty hallways, heading for his quarters. Actually, his quarters were the last place he wanted to be now, but he didn't really have a choice. Ten minutes ago Captain Archer had stopped by the Armoury and had been positively furious to find Malcolm still there. It had been the fifth time that day that Archer had ordered him back to his quarters, and this time the Captain had threatened to confine him to sickbay if Malcolm didn't 'get his ass out of here in the next thirty seconds!' Since Malcolm did not intend to spend the next few days in sickbay with Dr. Phlox hovering over him, he had reluctantly complied.

Reed entered the code to his quarters and the door swished open. The dark and empty room didn't look very inviting. Usually he didn't care much whether his quarters had a personal note to them or not, but at the moment he found the bare Starfleet-grey walls to be strangely depressing.

Wearily, he sat down on his bed. The last few days spent in the Armoury taking apart the burned remains of the console, trying to find out what had happened, had been indeed very frustrating. His desperate search for any clues on what had gone wrong had been futile; it had left him feeling tired and worn out, his injured shoulder throbbing with pain. He knew there had to be something he had overlooked. Obviously some unexpected side-effects had occurred during the experiment, something T'Pol had seen on that display and he hadn't. He had failed to fulfil his duty as Armoury Officer twice; he hadn't seen the explosion coming and he hadn't been able to protect T'Pol from getting injured. She had protected him, and it was his fault she was in sickbay now, unconscious and hardly able to breathe on her own.

Reed shook his head and closed his eyes. He remembered Trip's face when he had seen his wife lying on the floor in the Armoury between all the debris from the explosion.

I killed her, he thought. I killed her. How could he ever forgive me? How could I ever forgive myself?

He looked down at his hands, scratched and burned from digging in the remains of his EM field equipment, and suddenly he hated himself.

'You're a fanatic,' his sister had said to him once in a half-affectionately, half-exasperated tone of voice. 'Sometimes I think you care more about weapons than you care about people.' Then he had laughed about it, not taking it seriously, but now he knew she had been right. And it wasn't anything to laugh about, either.

His door chimed, and Reed startled.

"Come," he said wearily, hoping it wouldn't be Archer checking on him whether he had gone to bed yet. The door opened and revealed Commander Tucker, wearing his pajamas and looking slightly dishevelled. Reed flinched and got up quickly, hoping Trip hadn't seen his reaction.

"Commander," he said. Trip took a cautious step towards him.

"Can I come in?" he asked. At a loss for words, Reed nodded, and Trip entered, the door closing behind him. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Reed cleared his throat.

"Can...can I help you, Commander?"

Trip sat down on the edge of Malcolm's desk.

"Sorry to bother you that late at night." He sighed. "I just couldn't sleep and felt like having some company."

Reed sat down on his bed, looking at Trip. He couldn't believe Tucker would come to him, of all people, if he felt lonely and wanted to talk to someone. Realizing he was staring at the Commander, Reed lowered his eyes quickly.

"Oh," he said, the reply sounding odd even to his own ears.

"Yes." Trip eyed him slightly concerned. "Is there something wrong, Malcolm? If you'd rather want me to go I'll —"

Reed shook his head.

"No," he said, "no, it's all right, I...I wasn't sleeping anyway." Cautiously he looked up at Tucker. Trip looked exhausted, dark circles displayed under his eyes, and it seemed like he'd lost some weight.

Three days, Reed thought and felt the knot of guilt in his guts tighten. He's lost that weight in three days. I'm sure he hasn't been eating at all.

He swallowed. "How...how are you doing?" he asked, flinching at the plainness of his question.

A thin smile appeared on Trip's face. "All in all, I think I'm doing okay. I wish I could go back on duty, though. Sitting in my quarters all day with nothing to do but brooding is driving me a little nuts from time to time." He shifted a little on the desk, disarranging the neat pile of padds stacked there. Reed lowered his eyes again, staring fixedly on a spot on the floor. The knot in his stomach twisted.

"I'm sorry," he said, barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Trip."

Tucker didn't answer. The words echoed in Malcolm's ears and he realized how meaningless they were. T'Pol had been—was—Trip's wife, the one person he had chosen to spend his life with, and now she was lying in sickbay, so close to death that it really made no difference anymore.

Reed lifted his head, not wanting to meet Trip's eyes but feeling he had to. What he saw astonished him. Instead of the expression of contempt and maybe even hate he had expected, Trip had a look of sadness on his face.

"I know you're blaming yourself for what happened, Malcolm. See..." He hesitated. "There's no use in trying to figure out who's to blame. It won't change anything. I'm sure it wasn't your fault, and even if it was...it was an accident."

Reed shook his head.

"These kind of accidents aren't supposed to happen. That's what Security's there for."

Trip sighed. "Look, Malcolm. No one's blaming you for what happened to T'Pol. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes I did!" Reed got up, suddenly feeling angry. "I should have been the one to protect her, not..."

He noticed he had raised his voice and broke off. He, of all people, had no right to be angry, to shout at the man who had lost his wife because of him and who was even now trying to make him feel less guilty.

"She pushed me away, Trip," he whispered. "Just when the whole thing exploded. She'd noticed something was wrong and she tried to protect me..." Reed sat back down on the bed, looking at his hands. There was a moment's silence.

"Malcolm." Trip's voice sounded firm. "These last three days...ever since Phlox told me that T'Pol's in a coma, that...that she might never wake up again, I've felt horrible. I don't think there ever was a time when I felt worse. But still...still I'm glad and grateful that it's not you lying there, too, that you're here, alive and able to talk to me." Trip paused, and Reed looked up, meeting Tucker's even gaze.

"Don't go and blame yourself for what happened," Trip said gently. "Don't do that, because there's no use in it, and it only makes things worse."

Reed stared at Trip. Slowly the meaning of what his friend was trying to tell him sunk in. He couldn't believe that Trip would forgive him so easily, but somehow the words were helping him to sort out his thoughts, to get a grip on the situation. Trip was right, he was only making things worse by indulging in self-pity and brooding alone in the Armoury, afraid to talk to his best friend. Realizing Tucker was expecting some kind of reaction from him, he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Trip. You're right, I guess." He paused. "If there's anything I can do..."

"Actually, there is," Trip said. Reed raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"When we're going to Vulcan with T'Pol, I don't think it would be a good idea to take Sam with me to the hospital. Well, Jon's going to be quite busy talking to those diplomats, and since you're on light duties anyway..."

Reed's heart sunk. "You want me to take care of the baby?"

Trip hopped off the table, causing a few padds to fall to the floor. "If it's okay with you? I'll show you how to."

Reed swallowed. "Er..."

"That's great." Trip grinned. "Well then, see you tomorrow."

He left, and Reed sat staring at the door that had swished shut behind Trip.

"I'm an Armoury Officer, not a babysitter, Trip."

But the door gave no reply. He let out a small sigh, and, with a sense of foreboding, he got up to pick up the padds that had fallen to the floor.


	4. Arrival

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Trip turned and saw Archer standing in the doorway. Jon nodded at the window behind Trip.

"I'd never thought it would be like that. They say it's a bleak and barren world, but now I find there's a certain beauty to it."

Trip turned back to the window. He'd been sitting on his bed staring out there for about half an hour and still found the view to be overwhelming. Hanging below them in the darkness of space was the planet Vulcan, a gigantic orange globe, it's surface fogged by white layers of clouds moving with incredible speed. Here and there were tiny blotches of brown, green and even blue, but it was almost impossible to make them out against the vast spaces of orange and red, the colours of the deep desert.

Vulcan's sister planet T'Khut, larger than Earth's moon and glinting with the blazing fires of active volcanoes, was hanging dangerously close, as if the two planets were to collide any moment. Looking at Earth from the window of a spacecraft was an overwhelming experience as well, but still it was a peaceful sight, a calm picture in blue and green. This, however, was different.

Vulcan and it's sister planet seemed to be on fire, and the idea of any life existing on this world, let alone several billions of people, was strange. But Jon was right; there was a certain wild beauty to it, strange and unwelcoming as it was.

"I can't believe how they ever made it out into space, living on a world like that," he said, looking back at Jon. "Simply surviving long enough to develop civilization must have been hard enough."

Jon shook his head. "Maybe that's why they are so damn stubborn. On a world like that you have to be if you want to survive."

Trip smiled slightly and got up from the bed. "Anyway, seems like I'm going to be stuck on a desert planet again." The smile left his lips as he continued. "Doc says everything's ready, so we'll be leaving as soon as ShanaiKhar Hospital notifies us."

Jon nodded. "Travis will fly the shuttle. Vulcan space control was already informed that this is an emergency so you won't have to go through admission procedures. You'll be going straight to the hospital."

Trip sighed in relief. He'd been afraid of having to undergo endless formalities before they would let him accompany T'Pol to the hospital. But obviously the Vulcans thought mindless bureaucracy to be illogical, and for once Trip was glad to agree with Vulcan Logic. Looking up he noticed Jon watching him.

"Thanks, Captain. I'll...I'll be ready."

Jon nodded again and left, the door of Trip's quarters closing behind him. Trip sat there staring out of the window for another moment, then got up and walked over to Sam's carrycot, where the baby lay sleeping. Sam's crib had already been moved to Malcolm's quarters, as well as a suitcase with his clothes and several packages of babyfood and diapers.

"Well son, time to go," Trip said, picking up the cot. Sam never opened his eyes as Trip carried him out the door and down the hallways, heading for Reed's quarters. When he pressed the door chime, there were a few moments of silence. Then he heard Malcolm's muffled voice. "Come."

Trip opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Spread out on the entire floor of the room were the contents of the suitcase Trip had brought earlier. Half of the diapers and clothes were lying in a tangled heap on the floor just like Trip had stuffed them into the suitcase, the other half was neatly folded and stacked. Malcolm was kneeling in the middle of it all, currently engaged in the process of folding up one of Sam's blankets.

"Malcolm..." Trip watched the Armoury Officer as he placed the blanket onto a neat pile of folded cloth. "What are you doing?"

Malcolm looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Well, what do you think? Unlike you, I prefer to maintain a certain order, especially concerning things I'll be using daily," he said, glancing pointedly at Sam's suitcase standing beside him on the floor.

Trip looked down at the carrycot. "Looks like you're in for some fun, son."

Malcolm shot him a glare, placing another pair of socks onto the sock pile, then got up.

"I put his crib back there. Watch out so you don't step on anything."

Carefully avoiding the stacks of clothes and diapers Trip carried Sam over to the baby bed. Putting the cot down, he picked up his son and looked back at Malcolm, who was now busy lining up jars with baby food on a shelf.

"Watch out for the pacifiers," Trip said grinning. "They have a tendency to vanish, especially when you need them."

"I put the whole bunch of them into the desk drawer over there, so there should be no problems." Malcolm put down the last jar and picked up a stack of diapers.

Trip stared at him for a moment.

"You sure you're not Vulcan after all?"

Malcolm, deliberately ignoring his question, came over to stand beside him. Looking down at Sam in Trip's arms, he sighed.

"Do you really think I'm the right person for this job?" he asked.

Trip smiled at him. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. And if there really are any problems, just call Jon."

Malcolm's eyes widened slightly. "Certainly not," he said, obviously shocked at the idea of asking the Captain to help him babysit Sam. Trip grinned.

"Or Hoshi, for that matter."

Malcolm glanced at him doubtfully, then looked back down at Sam, who had just opened his eyes.

"So you'll be leaving now?" he asked.

Trip nodded. "The Vulcans will be calling any minute now."

Looking down, he cradled Sam closer to his chest. "Time to say goodbye, little one." He placed a kiss on the baby's forehead. "Hope I'll be back soon."

Gently he handed him over to Malcolm, who took him gingerly, carefully supporting the baby's head just as Trip had showed him to. He looked up at his friend.

"Good luck, then."

Trip nodded. He knew Malcolm would take good care of Sam, but still he hated the thought of leaving his son behind. With a last glance at the baby in Reed's arms he turned, heading for the door. Before he left, he looked back one more time.

"Thanks, Malcolm," he said quietly. Malcolm nodded. Then the door closed behind him, and he slowly walked back to his quarters.

* * *

The trip down to the surface was a short one. Dr. Phlox's medical team had installed a biobed with a portable life-support system in the back of the shuttle so T'Pol could be taken to the hospital without having to use the transporter which would have been too risky in her condition. Phlox had agreed to accompany them to the surface so he could speak to the Vulcan healers before they began their treatment.

Travis set down the shuttle on a wide, open space in front of an extended building complex. There was a lot of traffic on the hospital's landing area, aircars and shuttles coming and going, people in the traditional ochre healer robes rushing by. When Trip opened the hatch, the sudden onslaught of heat made him catch his breath. He stepped out into the glaring sunshine and looked around. Somehow it reminded him of the Australian deserts, except for the pale orange sky and the huge white sun. Everything was bathed in an odd light, casting strange shadows on the heat-scorched ground.

"You must be Commander Tucker."

Trip turned and found himself facing a small Vulcan woman in the robes of a healer. Unlike most Vulcans she wore her hair long, her braided red curls falling down her back. Trip stared at her. He had always thought that all Vulcans had black hair and a dark complexion, but there she was, complete with green eyes and freckles on her nose. Her hair looked almost orange in the harsh light of the Vulcan sun.

"Commander?"

Trip blinked, realizing he had been staring at her. He cleared his throat.

"Yes, I'm Tucker. And you are...?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "I am Healer T'Pyr. I will be in charge of the medical treatment of your wife. I assume Dr. Phlox has accompanied you?"

Trip nodded. "Yes, he's back in the shuttle with T'Pol."

That moment the hatch opened again and Phlox stepped out. When his eyes fell on Healer T'Pyr, his face lit up in his usual wide grin.

"Ah, there you are, T'Pyr. I've been looking forward to meeting you!"

She bowed her head slightly. "Welcome to ShanaiKahr, Dr. Phlox. Were there any complications during the flight?"

Phlox shook his head. "No, everything went well. I take it you already prepared everything for the admission?"

T'Pyr cast a short glance over her shoulder. "Yes, she can be taken to her room immediately. With your permission..."

"Of course."

T'Pyr waved to a group of Vulcans who had been waiting a few feet away. When T'Pyr motioned them to the shuttle they picked up a gurney which had been standing beside them and climbed through the hatch. T'Pyr and Phlox were talking rapidly to each other in some kind of medical jargon mixed with Vulcan expressions, and Trip didn't understand half of what they were saying. Anxiously he peered into the shuttle and saw the Vulcans quickly and efficiently move T'Pol from her biobed onto the gurney. When they were done, they carried her out the hatch and left, heading for the hospital building. Trip started to follow them, but T'Pyr caught his arm.

"Where are they taking her?" he asked, staring after the med techs who had just disappeared into the hospital, taking T'Pol with them. T'Pyr didn't let go of his arm, her voice soft as she spoke.

"Do not worry, Commander. T'Pol will now be taken to her room in the hospital. I am going to examine her as soon as Dr. Phlox has informed me about the course of treatment and her current condition. You will be able to see her later."

Trip stared down at her and saw an expression of sympathy in her green eyes. She let go of his arm, and he swallowed.

"Is there.. is there some kind of waiting room where I can stay in the meantime?"

T'Pyr turned to Phlox.

"Would you excuse me for a few minutes, Doctor?"

Phlox nodded. "Of course. I will take a look at those fascinating laboratory facilities of yours in the meantime. Commander..."

He left, heading towards the hospital entrance, and T'Pyr turned back to Trip. "I assume you have never been to a Vulcan hospital before?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. The all-too-familiar gesture made him smile.

"To be honest, I have never even been to Vulcan before."

T'Pyr gave the Vulcan equivalent of a nod. "There are certain methods of treatment unknown to most non-Vulcans. We call them kir'y'pan, the healing of the mind. They are mostly used on patients who suffer from injuries to the brain, amnesia or the aftereffects of traumatic experiences. To practice kir'y'pan, it is necessary to enter a deep mind meld with the patient. On several occasions, if there is need."

Trip got the distinct impression that T'Pyr felt a little uncomfortable on that subject. He tried to formulate his next question as carefully as possible.

"So...you'll have to read T'Pol's thoughts?"

"Essentially yes. I will try to guide her mind back to consciousness, to help her enter the healing process. It is...difficult to explain."

"I think I understand." It was an unsettling idea, doctors tinkering around with their patient's minds, but for some reason he felt he could trust this woman.

"I'm glad it's you who'll be taking care of her."

T'Pyr raised her eyebrow again and Trip thought he had seen the ghost of a smile cross her face for a second.

"That is fortunate, especially since I will need your help in this."

Trip stared at her. "I'm not a telepath, I don't think I—"

"I do not require you to perform a mind meld." Now there was definitely an amused undertone in her voice. "The kir'y'pan can be very strenuous and is bound to exhaust both Healer and patient at some point. For the patient to gain strength from the melds it is necessary that they feel at ease with their environment. Therefore we always ask a close relative or friend, if possible the patient's bondmate, to be present during the meld."

Trip swallowed. "What do I have to do?"

"Simply be there, maybe talk to her. It is necessary for your wife to feel your presence."

Trip sighed in relief. That shouldn't be too hard, and he was glad that there was something he could do for T'Pol after all. Looking back down at T'Pyr he saw her watching him and cleared his throat.

"Thank you for taking the time to explain all this to me. Well...is there some place where I can wait in the meantime?"

"Since you will be staying here for an indefinite amount of time, we have prepared a room for you in the west wing. Here is a plan of the hospital complex." T'Pyr handed him a padd.

"Thanks again," he said, turning to leave.

"I take it you have already informed the family?" T'Pyr asked behind him. Trip looked back at her.

"What family?" he asked, confused. T'Pyr raised both eyebrows this time.

"Your wife's family," she said.

"Oh." Trip shook his head. "No, I haven't. I don't really know them. I don't think it would be a good idea if I called them."

"They must be informed."

Trip sighed. "Sure, but I don't think they'd be exactly thrilled to talk to me. Maybe it'd be best if someone else told them."

T'Pyr clasped her hands behind her back.

"It is customary on Vulcan that the family takes care of these things. Since you are T'Pol's bondmate it is your responsibility to notify the family."

Trip looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"Very well." T'Pyr politely bowed her head and turned to leave. Glancing at the padd Trip set off for his room, trying to ignore the feeling of unease that was building in his stomach.


	5. Strange New World

Trip sat on his bed, staring out the window at the setting sun, watching the shadows in the yard grow longer. It hadn't been easy getting accustomed to the dry Vulcan heat, but after two days Trip had almost gotten used to it. It helped that he didn't have to do anything strenuous, spending most of his time sitting at T'Pol's bedside. So far, he had been her only visitor, neither any relatives nor her parents had come to see her. But thinking about it, after talking to T'Pol's father he hadn't really expected anybody to show up. Every time he thought of the way that man had treated him, an angry feeling welled up in his stomach.

It had taken him some time to find out how to contact T'Pol's family, but after some hunting through the ShanaiKahr information pages he had finally found the number.

When his call was being answered, Trip found himself facing the same elderly Vulcan T'Pol had been talking to aboard Enterprise. Trip hadn't expected the man to recognize him, but obviously T'Pol's father remembered his face.

"What do you want?" the Vulcan asked without preamble.

Trip took a deep breath. Okay, he thought, here we go.

"Sir...I'm calling to inform you that your daughter has been severely injured. She's currently being treated at the ShanaiKahr hospital."

A muscle in his cheek twitched once, but otherwise the expression on the man's face didn't change.

"Why are you making this call?"

Trip tried to keep the tension out of his voice. "Healer T'Pyr told me that in a case like this, it is the responsibility of the bondmate to inform the family."

"The family?" The Vulcan's voice sounded contemptuous, the first emotion he had ever shown in front of Trip. "The family is no concern of yours. We do not accept this marriage. T'Pol has no bondmate, so there is no reason for you to call."

"There's no reason?" Trip couldn't believe that this man was actually talking about his own daughter. "Didn't you listen to me? T'Pol's been hurt, she's in a coma! Don't you care about that at all?"

The Vulcan gave him a cold stare. "Like I said before, there is no reason for you to call. Do not contact us again."

He cut the connection, leaving Trip to stare at a blank screen.

The anger Trip had felt at that man who didn't seem to care if his own daughter lived or died still hadn't worn off. Sighing, he stared out the window again.

The sun had finally disappeared at the horizon, leaving only a few red and orange streaks on the darkening sky. After two days during which he had mostly been sitting beside T'Pol's still form, watching T'Pyr sitting motionless on her chair for hours, her hands placed on T'Pol's face, he was tired of not being able to do anything. He was beginning to feel lonely. There was no one to talk to except T'Pyr, and she was always very exhausted after the melds. Jon had called once, telling him that Enterprise would stay in orbit for at least two more weeks since the Science Conferences he had to attend had been extended.

Trip thought of his son and wished he could be back on Enterprise with Sam and T'Pol, and everything would be just like it had been before that morning nine days ago when Reed had called him from the Armoury. Sighing, he lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how Sam was getting along with Malcolm.

* * *

"What do you want?"

Malcolm sat on his bunk, staring at Sam's crib. He wondered how many hours of listening to earsplitting screaming it took to make a person go deaf.

If he doesn't stop soon, I believe my head's going to burst, he thought. He got up and walked over to the baby bed, looking down at Sam, whose little face was dark and contorted, his fists clenched under his chin. Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest.

"What do you want? You tell me, because I can't think of anything anymore. I carried you through the quarters for hours. I tried to feed you that gruesome baby nutrition stuff and you spit it out again, which is understandable. Then I tried to give you some orange juice and you spit that out as well. Never mind you spit it all over my desk ruining the Security report I've been working on the last few days, but you do have to eat something some time soon, you know. Then I tried taking you over to Trip's quarters so you would feel more at home, but you didn't like that either. I even tried singing to you, but neither "Ten Green Bottles" nor "In the Navy" suited you. You didn't even like "God Save the Queen" and that's about all I know. So tell me: What do you want?"

Sam stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath, then opened his mouth and let out another wail. Malcolm flinched. His mother used to say that babies who cried for no reason were just trying to keep their parents busy, and that it was best to ignore them until they were exhausted. Malcolm considered. Sam looked pretty exhausted already, but there was no sign he was going to stop screaming any time soon.

Okay, he thought, enough is enough. I can't take this any longer.

He walked over to the comm and pressed the button.

"Reed to Ensign Sato."

"Sato here. What's up, Malcolm?"

Malcolm threw a glance at the baby's crib. "Well, I have a little problem here..."

He heard Hoshi chuckle over the intercom. "Sounds like your problem's quite unhappy," she said.

Malcolm sighed. "Would you mind coming over for a minute? He just won't stop."

"Be right there. Hoshi out."

When she entered his quarters, Sam was still screaming at the top of his lungs. Malcolm motioned her over to the crib.

"You try, maybe you can get him to stop. I tried everything I could think of, and he's still screaming."

Hoshi bent down and picked up the baby. Holding him in her arms, she sniffed, then looked up at Malcolm.

"Did you try changing him?"

Malcolm stared at her, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. Of course he would forget the obvious, especially since Trip had told him at least five times that when Sam was getting cranky, he probably needed changing.

Seeing his expression, Hoshi shook her head. "So why did you think he was crying?"

Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a fool. "Well, it was kind of hard to think with him screaming like that."

Cradling Sam in her arms Hoshi walked over to the bed. Gently rocking the crying baby she looked back at Malcolm.

"Get me a blanket, will you?"

He obeyed taking a blanket out of a drawer and spreading it on the bed. Hoshi put Sam down and began to undress him.

"Poor little guy," she cooed. "What did bad old Uncle Malcolm do to you? No wonder you're crying..."

Malcolm huffed. "I didn't do anything. It's not my fault he can't tell me what's wrong. I even tried singing to him!"

Hoshi almost dropped the dirty diaper she had been folding up. " _What_ did you do?"

Malcolm instantly wished he'd kept his mouth shut. "Well, some babies fall asleep when you sing them a lullaby," he said defiantly.

Hoshi snorted. "Like you know any lullabies." She went to get a new diaper from the shelf. "You've probably been singing the "Pump Gun Song" to him."

Malcolm grimaced. "Harhar. Just so you know, I was a member of the school choir back home."

Hoshi rolled her eyes.

"You know, I would be screaming too if you started singing to me," she said dryly. Malcolm held up his hands in defeat.

"All right, I give up. At least he's quiet now."

Sam had stopped crying as soon as Hoshi had taken off the dirty diaper, and was now sleepily blinking up at the two of them. Hoshi sat down on the bed beside him and smiled slightly.

"He's a cute little guy." She watched the baby for a while, then looked back up at Malcolm. "Trip must feel terrible, all alone down there in that hospital. Did you call him yet?"

Malcolm sighed. "I tried, but my call wasn't connected."

"Maybe he's too busy. He hasn't been calling either, you know. I wish I knew how T'Pol is doing."

At the mention of her name, Malcolm looked down. Although talking to Trip several nights ago had helped, he still couldn't forget that it had been his experiment which had caused the accident.

"Malcolm?"

He raised his eyes to see Hoshi looking at him with a concerned expression.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded. "Yes, sure."

Hoshi's eyes lingered on him for another moment, but she didn't say anything. Malcolm looked at Sam who had fallen asleep in the meantime.

"Seems like he was quite tired. No wonder, after crying for nearly two hours. Well, come on, squirt." Picking up the baby, he carried him over to his crib.

Hoshi got up. "Did you have dinner yet?" she asked.

Malcolm shook his head. "I was kind of busy, you know."

She smiled. "Well, let's go, then."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you think it would be a good idea to leave him alone?"

"He's been screaming for so long, he'll be fast asleep for at least two hours now."

"If you say so." Malcolm dimmed the lights in his quarters. "We'd better get going then."

With a last glance at the sleeping baby he followed Hoshi out the door.


	6. Family And Friends

It was Trip's fourth day on Vulcan. After today's session T'Pyr had informed him that for the first time she had been able to establish a brief contact with T'Pol's mind. Trip had been surprised to hear it, he hadn't noticed any difference. It had been just another day of sitting at T'Pol's bedside, watching T'Pyr, hoping for some change, even the slightest twitch in T'Pol's face that would tell him she was still in there, after all.

The Healer had said that T'Pol had withdrawn into some kind of trance and that it was necessary to break through to her before the healing process could be initiated. Hearing her talk about beginning the healing process gave him hope, and when he left T'Pol's room that day, he felt a little better than he had on the previous evenings.

As the doors closed behind him, he noticed an elderly Vulcan woman standing next to the lift, watching him apprehensively. He had never seen her before, so he just nodded politely in her direction and headed for the stairs.

"Excuse me..."

He turned his head, startled. The woman took a step towards him. Her remarkably dark eyes were very intense, the only thing alive in her otherwise expressionless face.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Trip asked.

She hesitated for a moment. "Are you Commander Tucker?"

Trip raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I'm Charles Tucker."

For the first time the woman looked him straight in the eyes, taking in every detail of his face. Trip frowned. "And you are...?"

She looked away for a moment, as if to clear her thoughts. "I am T'Sai. T'Pol's mother."

Trip stared at her in astonishment. The woman didn't look at all like T'Pol, and her reserved way of speaking was very different from his wife's usual self-confident manner. He cleared his throat.

"Er...nice to meet you. Are you here to visit your daughter?"

"I have come to see T'Pol...and I am here because I wanted to meet her bondmate." Not giving him the chance to reply, she continued. "I know that my husband made it clear that he does not accept this marriage, but...I have my reasons."

Trip didn't really know what to make of that. He had assumed T'Pol's father had been speaking for the whole family when he had said that as far as they were concerned, T'Pol had no bondmate at all. But obviously T'Sai thought different. Noticing the anxious look on the Vulcan woman's face, he gestured at the door of T'Pol's room.

"Would you like to see her now?"

T'Sai bowed her head slightly. Trip touched the panel beside the door and the bulkhead slid aside. The room was quiet and dimly lit as usual, the only movements the steady flashing of the life support's display. As T'Sai sat down on the chair beside T'Pol's bed, he saw a flicker of sadness crossing her features. He knew how she felt; every day he came here it hurt him anew to see T'Pol lying motionless in that hospital bed, her face pale and still. After a moment he took a step towards T'Sai.

"You picked a good day for your visit, by the way," he said. "The Healer told me that today she was able to achieve a small improvement during the meld. There might be hope for recovery, after all."

T'Sai looked up at him. "This is good to hear."

It was a simple statement, but Trip could feel that she meant what she'd said. Pulling up a chair, he sat down beside her and smiled slightly.

"You know, I'm glad you came. I felt bad because I thought I was keeping her family away from her." He paused. "Will T'Pol's father come to visit her as well?"

T'Sai looked away. "Solkar does not know that I am here. He would not approve if he did."

Trip sighed. Thinking about it, he shouldn't have expected anything else. Still, it made him angry to see what this man was doing to his family.

"But why?" he asked, a little louder than he had intended to. "Why won't he even come and visit her? She's his daughter, for God's sake! Doesn't he care at all?"

A short silence followed and Trip already wished he could take back the harsh words, when T'Sai raised her eyes.

"He cares very much," she said quietly, stunning him into silence. He just stared at her as she continued.

"T'Pol is his only child, and she means more to him than he even realizes himself. He is very...protective of her, and never approved of her decision to work among humans." She hesitated. "He thinks humans...cannot be trusted, that they are superficial and unreliable. When he heard of T'Pol's marriage, he was very...concerned. He thinks you will make her unhappy."

Trip shook his head. This didn't seem to fit in his picture of T'Pol's father at all, but he saw that T'Sai was speaking the truth. That this seemingly cold and unfeeling man was simply afraid for his daughter, like any father would be, was something which had never occurred to him before.

"Then why did he refuse to talk to her?"

T'Sai looked at T'Pol's still face. "It is his way," she said simply. A moment of silence followed.

"And you?" Trip asked finally. "What do you think?"

She didn't answer immediately.

"I trust my daughter's judgement," she said at last. "My husband does not see that there comes a time when children begin to make their own decisions. I find it difficult to come here without his knowledge, but as I said, I have my reasons."

Aware of the fact that he was probably violating every Vulcan privacy code there was, Trip decided to ask further.

"What do you mean?"

She met his gaze evenly. "I am suffering from a terminal heart disease," she said as calmly as if she were talking about the weather. "I do not know how much time I have left, and I wanted to see my daughter, regardless of what the family thinks."

Trip sensed a desperate determination underlying her words. She'd spoken of her illness like she'd accepted it long ago and moved on, but he realized that at the same time it had given her the strength to come here against the will of the family. And he knew that for most Vulcans family and family honor was one of the most important things in life. He looked down at his hands.

"Does T'Pol know of your...illness?" he asked quietly.

"I never told her," T'Sai said.

A short silence followed.

"I'm sure T'Pol would appreciate your decision to come here," he said at last.

"She was very...disappointed when her father told her that she was not welcome in your house. She really wanted you to see Sam."

T'Sai raised an eyebrow. "Who is Sam?"

"Our son." Trip smiled. "He's two months old."

Her eyes widened slightly. "I did not know you had a son."

Trip frowned. T'Pol had told her father about Sam when she had called home from Enterprise over a week ago. Figures, he thought, that this man would keep that particular fact from his wife.

"Sam..." T'Sai repeated thoughtfully. "You agreed to give him a Vulcan name?"

"'Sam' is also a human name," Trip said. "His full name is Sam Jonathan."

"Who is taking care of the baby while you are here?" she asked.

"Malcolm," he said. "He's our Armoury Officer." Noticing her raised eyebrow, he added: "I'm sure he's doing a great job. Besides, the Captain's busy so I couldn't ask him."

She looked at him and for the first time since they had met, he saw a slight smile on T'Sai's lips.

* * *

"Evening, Malcolm."

Malcolm looked up at Hoshi who set her tray down on the table.

"Hi, Hoshi," he said smiling. He hadn't started on his own dinner yet, waiting for her to come back from her shift. They'd had dinner together every evening since the day she had helped him with Sam, and Malcolm found that he enjoyed her company. He'd spent a lot of time with her lately; she had stopped by his quarters every day after her shift to see how Sam and he were doing. Today, however, she'd been assigned an extra shift and hadn't been able to make it. As she sat down, Hoshi smiled at him.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Bloody but unbowed." Malcolm sighed. "He finally fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago."

Hoshi started on her pasta, trying to keep a straight face.

"You did remember changing him today, did you?"

Malcolm gave her an indignant look. "Yes I did. He just decided to keep me busy today and started to cry whenever I tried to put him down. The problem is, he always wants to be the focus of attention. Just like his father, come to think of it."

Hoshi smacked his arm. "Shut up. Trip's not that bad. And anyway, it's not Sam's fault you're a lousy babysitter."

Malcolm shot her a dirty look. "Well, that's why I became an Armoury Officer, not a kindergarten teacher."

Hoshi snorted. "Fair point."

She concentrated on her dinner again, and for a while they ate in silence.

Malcolm noticed that Hoshi was one of the few persons you could just be with without having to keep up constant conversation. It was something he really liked about her, since he himself hated the never-ending small talk many people needed to feel comfortable. After a few more minutes Hoshi looked up at him.

"You know, I really missed Sam today. I'm always looking forward to visiting the both of you after the end of my shift."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Well, I had the impression Sam was missing you, too. He doesn't take half as long to fall asleep when you're around."

Hoshi smiled. "He's such a cute baby. And pretty good-natured too, considering his parents aren't here to take care of him at the moment. He must be missing them terribly."

"I'm sure he does." Malcolm looked down at his plate, ruefully thinking of the many occasions when he had been quite annoyed by the constant unhappy crying. Sam was just a baby, after all, and couldn't understand why his parents had to leave him with a stranger who didn't really know how to take care of him.

He looked up and noticed Hoshi regarding him thoughtfully.

"What's up?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hoshi shook her head. "I was just wondering...did you ever think about having children of your own? Someday, I mean?"

The question took him by surprise. He had never given much thought to that subject, and the idea of thinking of himself as a father was new to him.

"Well...no," he said after a moment. "Not really."

"Neither did I." Hoshi paused. "But I guess you can't really plan that kind of thing. I mean, just look at Trip and T'Pol."

Malcolm snorted. "I believe at least T'Pol had it all planned out," he said wryly.

Hoshi grinned. "You might have a point there. But Trip manages pretty well, I think. At least he knows how to recruit babysitters." Malcolm nodded glumly, but Hoshi ignored him. "Did you know the Captain always takes Sam along when he walks Porthos? It's funny to see a Starfleet Captain walking through the hallways of his ship talking to a dog and a baby." She giggled.

"Could you repeat that a little bit louder, I don't think everybody quite heard you," Malcolm said, taking a quick look around. Hoshi just grinned and took a sip of her drink.

"Oh, by the way," she said, putting her glass down, "I've asked Liz Cutler if she'd babysit Sam on Friday night. She said yes, so would you like to go to movie night with me?"

Malcolm cleared his throat. "I...well, I still have to get that Security report done, so..."

Hoshi sighed. "Come on, Malcolm. Don't tell me you have to work on a Friday night!"

"I always work on Friday nights," Malcolm said raising his eyebrows.

Hoshi rolled her eyes. "Are you going to come with me or not?"

"Well, since you already found a babysitter..."

She smiled at him. "So it's a date, then?"

Malcolm felt his ears grow hot. "I guess so."


	7. Emergency

T'Pyr rose from her chair. Trip watched her as she straightened her robes and picked up her padd that had been lying on the nightstand. She looked tired, but not as exhausted as she had after her first melds with T'Pol over a week ago. When she met his eyes, her features, while as calm as ever, seemed softer than usual.

"She is ready now," she said. "Tomorrow I will initiate the procedure."

Trip felt his throat tighten. Looking down at T'Pol, her face as vacant as it had been the last few weeks, he couldn't imagine that tomorrow she might open her eyes again, just like that, and talk to him as if none of it had ever happened.

"Are you sure it's not too early?" he asked, looking up at T'Pyr who was standing beside him. "I can't see any change."

"The change is within," the Healer said quietly. "I was successful in my efforts to bring T'Pol out of the trance her mind had initiated to protect her. The kir'y'pan has been completed."

Trip swallowed. "So...are you saying she's...are you saying she'll be okay?" T'Pyr gave him that familiar almost-smile. "The treatment was successful. However, there is still the kir'y'pan'la, the procedure of waking the patient. It is...not without risk."

Trip bit his lip. "What kind of risks are you talking about, exactly?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know. T'Pyr clasped her hands behind her back.

"In most cases the kir'y'pan'la is unproblematic. Sometimes however the patient's mind has been injured too severely so that despite all efforts the Healer is not able to bring them back to consciousness. In very few cases the patient comes out of the trance but the mind has taken permanent damage."

Trip felt the knot of fear in his stomach tighten.

"And...what about T'Pol? Do you think she'll be all right?"

"The odds are in her favor, but I cannot say for sure. This is something the Healer has not much influence on. It depends on the patient's willpower. If there is a strong motivation to return to the world of the living, the mind will fight it's way through. This is why I want you and Lady T'Sai to be present during the procedure."

Trip nodded, looking down at T'Pol. "I think I'll stay here tonight."

"As you wish. I will meet you here tomorrow morning at 0800 hours." T'Pyr turned towards the door. Before she left, she looked back one more time.

"Good night, Commander."

Trip smiled. "Good night."

The door swished shut behind her, and Trip turned back to the bed. He felt he couldn't leave T'Pol alone tonight and he wouldn't have been able to get much sleep now anyway. Sitting there holding her hand, he thought about what T'Pyr had told him. Her words had sounded quite confident to his ears, but nevertheless a nagging fear took hold of him when he remembered what she'd said about the possible failing of the procedure. What if T'Pol was one of the few who couldn't be brought back to life? What if his and T'Sai's presence wasn't enough to guide her back to consciousness?

If T'Pol was to die he wouldn't be able to go on, and he knew T'Sai would be devastated. She had been here every day since they'd met four days ago, and although she'd never said it, it was obvious that T'Pol meant very much to her, maybe everything. T'Sai was very different from her daughter, shy and very reserved, but still he found that he had come to like her a lot. A silent understanding had grown between them, a shared determination not to give up.

After he'd met T'Sai it had been much easier to stay sane in this strange place, coping with the daily anxiousness, because he knew that there was somebody who cared just as much as he did.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He thought of himself as an optimistic person, and T'Pyr had said the odds were in their favor. He wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay. For a while he sat in silence, listening to the muffled sounds of voices nearby, trying to empty his weary mind of all thoughts. He started to drift and when the door suddenly swished open, he startled. As he turned his head, he saw T'Sai standing in the doorway. He got up.

"Good evening, ma'am."

She stepped closer, her eyes falling on T'Pol. Trip had the impression that she looked a little paler than yesterday, and when she spoke, her voice sounded even more subdued than usual.

"Good evening. I hope you do not feel disturbed by my presence, but Healer T'Pyr just informed me of tomorrow's procedure. I...I did not want to leave her alone tonight."

Trip smiled and pulled up a chair beside his.

"I'm glad you've come, T'Sai. Please, sit down."

Her movements were unusually slow and she seemed to be in pain, grimacing ever so slightly as she sat down in the chair. Trip eyed her concernedly.

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

She didn't look at him.

"It is of no importance."

Trip didn't like that, but he knew better than to press the matter. If she didn't want to talk about it, then she wouldn't. Deciding to keep an eye on her, he sat down in his chair beside her.

"T'Pyr said she's quite sure there won't be any problems. She expects the procedure to be quite short."

T'Sai bowed her head in silent acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. Sensing she didn't want to talk at the moment, he fell silent as well. For a while they just sat there, watching T'Pol who had her eyes closed and looked very peaceful in the dim glow of the ceiling lamp. Trip felt himself beginning to get lost in reverie again, and welcomed the feeling.

It happened so quickly that he never even realized how much time had passed. Suddenly and without a sound, T'Sai slumped forward in her chair and would have fallen to the floor if Trip hadn't caught her just in time.

"T'Sai!" He straightened her up, his heart thumping against his chest as he felt her neck.

"Damn!" His fingers were shaking badly but as far as he could tell, there was no pulse. His mind raced as he carefully lowered her to the floor. Cardiac arrest, he thought, what the hell am I supposed to do? Forcing himself to think clearly, he took a deep breath. First Aid, he thought, remember! Frantically he searched his mind, trying to recall what to do next. A Vulcan's heart is positioned differently than the Human heart, he recounted, adjusting his hands to the right place, desperately hoping he remembered Dr. Phlox's anatomy lessons correctly. Counting under his breath he began administering chest compressions, anxiously watching T'Sai's face which had lost all colour. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted to one side as if she were dead.

"Come on," he panted, "Don't do that to me!" Bending down he did the mouth-to-mouth, then resumed the compressions. Not daring to stop even long enough to get to the intercom, he called out as loud as he could, hoping one of the Healers—anyone—would hear him.

"I need help here, dammit! There's an emergency!"

Sweat sprang out on his brow as he concentrated on his chanting. Checking for pulse again, he felt T'Sai's clammy skin under his fingers. No recognizable heartbeat, not even a weak one.

"Dammit!" Panic welled up in his stomach. He pressed harder, ignoring the pain stinging in his hands and wrists, concentrating on the steady rhythm of the compressions. Just as he bend down for another mouth-to-mouth, the door swished open and a man in Healer robes rushed in, followed by a nurse carrying an emergency kit.

"Move aside, Sir." Quickly the Vulcan got to his knees beside T'Sai and felt her pulse, while the nurse handed him a med scanner. Trip didn't get up, fearing he was going to be sick if he tried to stand.

"How is she?!" he urged, watching the Healer check his scanner. The Vulcan pressed a hypospray against T'Sai's neck, then looked up at Trip.

"She is out of immediate danger, thanks to your quick aid. Your attempt at resuscitation was successful, it seems. Her heart is beating again."

Trip sat down hard on the floor, a wave of relief washing over him. For a moment he'd thought T'Sai dead and the shock he'd felt still made his legs feel shaky. He watched the Healer administer another hypospray while the nurse walked over to the intercom. A few moments later a med team arrived and T'Sai was gently laid on a gurney while the Healer scanned her biosigns. As Trip watched them taking her away he suddenly felt a small warm hand on his arm. Healer T'Pyr guided him to the chair where T'Sai had been sitting only ten minutes ago and he sat down, trying to stop his hands from shaking. The door had shut behind T'Sai and the med team. T'Pyr didn't loosen her grip on his arm as she spoke, her voice calm and soothing as ever.

"Close your eyes and breath deeply. Do not try to fight the shock, just concentrate on breathing."

He complied and after a while he found the shaking subsided. He looked up at the Healer who let go of his arm and sat down beside him.

"Thanks." He smiled at her. T'Pyr met his gaze evenly, even though her eyes seemed brighter than usual.

"I thank you. Without your help Lady T'Sai probably would be dead now."

Trip bit his lip. It had been very close, and the shock he had felt when he had seen her fall still hadn't really worn off. If T'Sai had died tonight of all nights...would T'Pol have felt it? Maybe she would have known. If T'sai had died, maybe he would have lost his wife as well. T'Pyr put a hand on his arm again, starting him from his thoughts.

"I think you need to rest now, Commander. You will need your strength tomorrow." Surprised, Trip looked up. "So you'll do it tomorrow after all?"

"I see no reason to delay the procedure any longer."

Trip frowned. "But, T'Sai..."

"Lady T'Sai will not be able to attend the kir'y'pan'la, but do not worry, Commander. I am confident that your wife will find enough support in your presence. I must insist that you rest now, though."

Trip nodded. He felt indeed quite weary and knew he would be totally worn out in the morning if he didn't get some shut-eye soon.

"Is there a cot somewhere I can use? I'd rather stay here tonight."

T'Pyr rose. "Certainly."

She showed him to the room next door, obviously some kind of waiting room. A small couch stood in one corner and Trip lay down on it. The latest events had taken their toll of him, and his eyes began to droop as soon as he had settled down. He never even noticed T'Pyr dimming the lights, and when the door swished shut behind her, he was already asleep.


	8. Awakening

"Commander."

Trip opened his eyes, blinking as the bright sunlight from the window blinded him for a moment. When his eyes had gotten used to the light, he saw T'Pyr leaning over him.

"You need to wake up now."

Blearily he tried to remember why he was lying on a small uncomfortable couch in a strange room. Then yesterday's events came back to him, and he sat up quickly. Too quickly; the world blurred before his eyes and he blinked again, waiting for the dizzyness to subside.

"How's T'Sai?" he asked, massaging his neck where a cramp had built overnight. His hands ached. T'Pyr handed him a glass water and he downed it in one swig.

"Lady T'Sai's condition is stabilizing. She is out of danger. For the moment."

T'Pyr took the glass and handed him a tray with fruits, and Trip noticed for the first time that he was actually hungry. He took a red striped fruit from the tray which looked a little less poisonous than the rest and carefully nibbled at it. It tasted sweet.

"You know of her heart disease?" he asked, looking up at T'Pyr.

She clasped her hands behind her back. "I know Lady T'Sai is suffering from a terminal cardiac disease. The heart attack she experienced last night was not her first, but she has only had very small infarctions so far. From now on she will have to take medications daily to prevent another attack which would probably kill her."

Trip noticed that T'Pyr told him these things as if he were a close relative of T'Sai. She seemed to know that T'Sai had accepted him as a member of the family. "Do you...do you know how much time she has left?" he asked quietly. T'Pyr hesitated a moment before she answered.

"She might have years left, but we cannot know for sure. Her disease has very different effects on those concerned; some live for years without needing special treatment, others do not survive very long. But for the moment Lady T'Sai is out of danger, owing to you."

Trip looked away, embarrassed. He was glad he'd been able to help, but to be regarded as some sort of hero by a logical Vulcan, of all people, made him feel slightly uneasy. He cleared his throat. "I think I'd better go to T'Pol now." T'Sai's eyes glinted with amusement at his rather awkward try of changing the subject.

"Of course, Commander. I will join you in a few minutes so we can begin the procedure."

She left, and Trip got up, heading for the door. When he stepped beside T'Pol's bed, he felt anxiousness and excitement building in his stomach at the same time. He wished he could have had Sam with him now. You're going to get your mom back, he thought, just as I promised. He took T'Pol's hand, squeezing it slightly. I won't settle for less.

The door swished open. Trip turned, expecting to see T'Pyr—and froze when he saw a man standing in the doorway. The same man he had spoken to a week ago, when T'Pyr had told him to notify the family. T'Pol's father. For a moment neither of them spoke. The dark-eyed Vulcan looked at him, but this time there was no contempt in his eyes, and the cold anger Trip had seen there before was gone. The man's face was devoid of any expression as he took a step forward, the door closing behind him.

"Your name is Charles Tucker," he said without introduction.

Trip nodded, involuntarily straightening up as the Vulcan came closer. "Yes, Sir."

The man—he was called Solkar, Trip remembered—came to stand right in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes. Trip forced himself to answer the piercing glare, trying to keep the nervousness from showing on his face. What on earth did that guy want from him now?

"I came here," Solkar said slowly, "because I need to talk to you."

Trip swallowed. "Okay."

"I want to express my gratitude."

Trip stared at him. "Er...come again?"

Solkar raised an eyebrow. "I want to thank you for saving T'Sai's life."

Still not believing he had heard him right, Trip cleared his throat.

"Well...I'm glad she survived."

Solkar looked at him for a long moment before he spoke.

"So am I."

Before Trip could answer, the door opened again. T'Pyr hesitated for a moment when she saw the two men, but as Trip greeted her with a smile she stepped closer.

"Commander." She nodded politely in his direction, then turned to Solkar, who clasped his hands behind his back.

"You came to visit your wife, Solkar?" she asked and Trip noticed that her voice sounded unusually cold. She had never said it, but he knew the Healer didn't approve of Solkar's refusal to visit his daughter. Solkar seemed to have noticed as well; he averted his eyes for a short moment before he answered.

"I came to visit my wife, Healer...and my daughter as well."

T'Pyr gave him a long look. "That is fortunate," she said at last. "Your presence at the kir'y'pan'la will be appreciated." She turned to T'Pol's bed and sat down in her usual chair. She motioned both men to come closer.

"When I initiate the procedure, it is most important that everyone whose presence T'Pol will feel stays calm and controlled. She must be reassured that it is safe for her to allow herself to return to consciousness. Try to project that in your thoughts. Do not try to rush her, just be there and be of help when she needs it."

Trip was feeling far from calm and controlled. Nervously he looked down at T'Pol. What if he couldn't control his feelings, would the procedure fail? T'Pyr put a hand on his arm.

"Commander. Do not try to fight your anxiousness, it is only natural and will not do any damage. Try to concentrate on peaceful images, memories of your time together. T'Pol will react to that."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding. T'Pyr turned to Solkar. "You understand that the...disagreement between you and your daughter is of no importance now. If you are to stay, you must show her in your thoughts that you accept her the way she is."

This time Solkar did not avert his eyes. "I understand."

"Very well." T'Pyr straightened up, placing both her hands on T'Pol's face. "I will initiate the meld now."

Her voice sounded different, entranced, as she began the ancient chant of the mind meld.

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts..."

The monotone rhythm of the words helped Trip to sort out his thoughts and forget his nervousness, concentrating on...images...

* * *

...T'Pol, sitting on the floor of her quarters, looking up at him. The warm candlelight softens her features and she looks more beautiful than ever before.

"This is illogical, Commander," she says, but there is a warmth in her voice belying the words.

He smiles down at her. "Now why would you say it's illogical, Subcommander?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You are always trying to provoke me, criticising my command style, complaining about my attitude towards the crew, objecting to the Vulcan way of life, Vulcans in general and me in particular. If what you just said is true, then why do you do all these things?"

"Why?" He sits down on the floor beside her, glad the semidarkness in her quarters will hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. "Simply to get your attention..."

* * *

...The water of the lake feels cool on his skin, refreshing after sweating in the hot sun for so long. He does a few strokes, then turns back to see T'Pol standing on the shore, her arms crossed before her chest. She is wearing the blue one-piece bathing suit Hoshi has lent her, but obviously the idea of getting into closer contact with the water makes her uncomfortable.

He waves, splashing around. "Come in! It won't bite you!" Still sceptical, she raises and eyebrow and very carefully sticks one toe into the water.

"It is cold."

He sighs. "Of course it's cold if you do it like that. You just have to jump in, that's the way to do it!" She frowns, contemplating. He watches her, grinning.

"You're not afraid, are you?" A moment's silence and then there is a splash, and she is right beside him, dripping wet, shaking with cold, but smiling...

* * *

..."You may now kiss the bride."

Wipe that grin off your face, Jon, he thinks as he bends down, feeling T'Pol's warm lips on his own. The mess hall erupts in cheers and suddenly they are surrounded by people who are shouting, throwing rice, taking pictures. Malcolm elbows him aside and, grabbing T'Pol by the shoulders, he plants a wet kiss on her cheek. Noticing both bride and bridegroom glaring at him, he shrugs. "Don't look at me like that. That's what the Best Man does."

He turns and there is Jon, pulling him into a big hug. "I'm so happy for you, Trip."

Letting go of him Jon gives him a playful slap on the arm. "So how does it feel, being married to a Vulcan?" He looks over at T'Pol who despite Hoshi's and Liz Cutler's pleading stubbornly refuses to throw her bridal bouquet. How does it feel?

"Strange," he says, turning back to Jon who is grinning again. "It feels strange, but...wonderful."...

* * *

...T'Pol, lying on the bed, a blanket draped over her bulging belly. She looks worn out and tired, the Vulcan picture of misery. He finishes filling the hot-water bottle and sitting down beside her, he lifts the blanket a few inches to place the bottle at her feet. She looks at him, a weary almost-smile on her lips. "Thank you, Charles."

He smiles in return. "You're welcome. How was your day?"

A small sigh escapes her, and he shakes his head sympathetically. "That bad, huh?"

"When I first came to the bridge, Captain Archer would not allow me to finish the scans, but told me "just to sit down and relax a bit." After I had been sitting at my station for approximately half an hour with nothing to do, Lieutenant Reed brought me the new sensor data and informed me that I "looked like a beach ball with legs", advising me to go to my quarters and get some rest soon. A few minutes later Ensign Mayweather voiced his opinion that it might be twins, after all, and began arguing with Ensign Sato, discussing the advantages and disadvantages of taking care of two babies at the same time. That was when I decided to spend the rest of the day down in Science Department."

He sighs. "I know what you mean. Lieutenant Hess kept bothering me all day I should rather go and keep you company instead of repairing these stupid micro-circuits. Well, I guess they mean well."

T'Pol raises an eyebrow. "It was quite a taxing day after all."

He puts a hand on her belly, stroking it softly, and suddenly feels a slight bump against his fingers. A grin spreads on his face.

"Yeah, but you know what? It's getting better..."

* * *

..."I think he looks like you."

"You can't be serious. What about the ears?"

"It does not matter. The eyes are the same."

"Okay, he's got blue eyes. But his face reminds me of yours."

"Because it is green?"

"No, because it's beautiful, stupid! He 's not so green anymore, after all. He was when Dr. Phlox first gave him to me, but now he looks just like his mother. Thank God he's got your nose as well."

"What is wrong with your nose, Charles?"

"Well, let's just say it might look funny on a Vulcan."

"You are being illogical. A nose is a nose. Even if it is slightly out of shape."

"Honey?"

"Yes, Charles?"

"I love you..."

* * *

Somebody placed a hand on his shoulder and Trip blinked, slowly returning to the real world. T'Pyr had gotten up from her chair beside the bed and was now standing beside him, holding his shoulder as if she was afraid he might lose his balance.

"What—?"

"The kir'y'pan'la has been completed. Now go and wake her up."

Unsteady Trip stepped beside the bed, hearing T'Pyr quietly talk to Solkar. T'Pol's eyes were still closed, but she looked different, more...alive than she had before. He took her hand.

"T'Pol," he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse. "T'Pol, come back to me. I know you can do it..."

Turning his head he noticed Solkar standing beside him. His voice was very quiet as he spoke.

"Daughter. Wake up. There is nothing to be afraid of."

Trip held her hand in both his own, squeezing it slightly.

"We're all here, T'Pol. Come back to us. I love you. You hear me? I love you!"

Her fingers which had been lying limply in his palm, suddenly tightened around his hand. Trip felt his throat constrict.

"You're...you're awake!"

Her grip tightened even more and then, slowly, laboriously, T'Pol opened her eyes.

"Charles..." Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but Trip understood her clearly. Blinking, biting down hard on his lip, he answered.

"Yes, I'm here. But somebody else has come to see you, too." He shifted a little, making room for Solkar who stepped up beside the bed. His features had softened and his voice sounded slightly unsteady.

"Daughter. I am glad to see you awake."

T'Pol's eyes widened slightly as she heard his voice and she turned his head to look at him.

"Father..."

Solkar touched her hand. "Yes, I am here."

T'Pol closed her eyes for a short moment, but when she opened them again, the expression on her face had changed. She looked awake and when Trip saw her confused frown, he realized how strange all this must look to her.

"What...what happened, Charles? I remember being in the Armoury with Lieutenant Reed..."

He stroked the back of her hand, speaking in calm low voice so as not to upset her.

"There was an accident, and you were hurt, badly. You lapsed into a coma and we had to take you to Vulcan, so the Healers here could help you. We—we were afraid you might not wake up again. But everything's all right now..."

T'Pol gave him a long look. "You were there, Charles. You and my father, calling me..."

"I know. And we're so glad to have you back."

T'Pol closed her eyes again, and T'Pyr who had been standing a few feet away, came closer.

"She has to rest now," she said quietly. "The procedure is very exhausting. You will be able to see her later."

Trip didn't like the thought of leaving T'Pol alone now, but he understood it was necessary. Reluctantly he let go of her hand and rose from his chair. Once they had reached the door, T'Pyr dimmed the lights and increased the room temperature by a few degrees. Then she followed Trip and Solkar into the hallway, the door closing behind her.

"You both did very well," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "You helped her find her way back. She is out of danger."

Trip averted his eyes. He knew she had seen him cry earlier, and he didn't mind because he knew she'd understand, but he didn't want Solkar to see the tears in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he smiled at her.

"Thank you, T'Pyr, for everything."

That almost-smile crossed her face again, but after a second her features were as calm and dignified as ever.

"I am glad I could be of help, Commander. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get some rest as well. The procedure is quite exhausting for the Healer, too." Trip and Solkar watched her walk down the hallway, then turned to look at each other. After a moment's silence Solkar opened his mouth.

"I had not finished my speech earlier."

Trip eyed him warily, still not really knowing what to make of all this. Solkar continued.

"I want you to understand that I did not approve of your marriage with T'Pol."

"I noticed," Trip said dryly, but Solkar went on undeterred.

"I was afraid for my daughter. The ways of the humans are very different from ours. I thought you were...dishonest and superficial. I wanted to protect T'Pol."

"I would never...I love T'Pol!"

"I know. You saved her life and you saved the life of her mother. I am grateful."

Trip shook his head. It was strange, hearing Solkar say these words. He'd thought this man felt nothing but contempt for him, and now he was standing here in front of him, practically apologizing. Still, he was ready to take the offer.

"I'm glad you came, Sir. I'm sure it helped T'Pol a lot, hearing your voice. She cares very much about you."

Solkar hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth again. "Tell her she is welcome in my house anytime. As...are you."

Before he turned to leave, he raised his hand in the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Commander."


	9. Epilogue

"Commander!"

Trip turned his head and saw Malcolm waving at him from a table across the room. He picked up his tray and made his way through the mess hall. As he set down his tray on the table, Reed smiled at him.

"Hey Malcolm." He sat down on the chair, picking up his fork. "How are you today?"

"Fine. T'Pol's still sleeping?"

Trip nodded. "Phlox said she'll need a lot of rest in the next few weeks. She's still feeling kinda tired all the time, so it's best for her to stay in bed. Correction: _Would_ be best for her." He rolled his eyes. "I already caught her working on the damn sensor data again."

Malcolm smiled. "Hope she doesn't mind me coming over to visit Sam from time to time. I find I feel kind of lonely in my quarters since he's gone."

"I told you, he's inherited the Tucker charm." Trip grinned at Malcolm's pained expression. "No, really, you should have seen T'Sai when we visited her in the hospital on Monday. She was crazy about him, just like my mom."

"I'm sure she was." Malcolm took a sip from his coffee. "How is she, by the way?"

"Better. Solkar called yesterday, telling us she'll be going home tomorrow. T'Pol was quite relieved to hear that. She was very worried when she first heard of T'Sai's heart problems."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "She didn't know?"

"No. They...weren't talking much in the last few years."

Trip concentrated on his breakfast and Malcolm didn't ask further. For several minutes they ate in silence.

"By the way," Trip said after a while, "I haven't seen much of Jon lately. Those conferences do take a lot of time."

Malcolm hid a grin. "Well, he seemed a little...annoyed sometimes. Good thing we're leaving orbit today."

"Poor Jon." Trip smiled. "I'll ask him to come over tonight so we can watch one of his water polo games." He sighed a little. "They're awfully boring, but maybe it'll cheer him up."

Trip shoved a piece of toast in his mouth. "What about you? Going to movie night tonight?"

"In fact I am," Malcolm said, deliberately not looking at him. Trip grinned.

"Will Hoshi be there, too?"

Malcolm's ears reddened. "Probably."

"Mhm." Trip's grin broadened. "You've been quite busy lately, haven't you?"

Reed looked up. "Er...why?"

"I'm still waiting for your report on the targeting scanners."

Malcolm's eyes widened. "Bloody hell! I totally forgot about that. I wanted to get it done last night, but..." His face went crimson. "You'll get it tomorrow."

"Oh, there's no hurry." Trip watched with amusement as Malcolm studiously avoided meeting his eyes. "Hoshi's on duty Tuesday evening, maybe you can do it then."

Malcolm shot him a glare. "Shut up." But there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Trip shook his head, grinning.

"What are they showing tonight, anyway?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "'City of Angels'. Hoshi wants to see it."

Trip smiled sympathetically. "So now you have to watch these soppy tear-jerkers all the time?"

Malcolm smiled a little. "No, last week we saw 'Golden Eye'."

"Oh." Trip took a sip from his drink. "Never saw that one."

Malcolm grinned ruefully. "You could say I haven't either."

Trip stared at him for a moment, then laughed out loud. "You're crazy."

Reed shrugged. "People told me that before."

Trip turned back to his breakfast, shaking his head. During the time he'd been away Malcolm had changed, and not for the worse, either. Well, Trip thought, taking care of a baby, even for a short time, can change people. Especially when those people have to ask a certain Communications Officer for help. But they do make a cute couple.

Trip finished his breakfast and got up. "Well then, gotta go. See you later and—have fun tonight!"

Reed smiled. "Sure will."

Trip left the mess hall, heading for Engineering. It felt good being back on duty, going to work on a perfectly normal day, not having to worry about anything but burnt out circuits. He thought of T'Pol and Sam, and a feeling of relief and gratitude swept through him. T'Pol was safe and back on the ship with him, and that was all he needed.

He opened the door to Engineering and took in the familiar scene of buzzing activity. Lieutenant Hess turned her head and waved at him from the upper level.

Trip smiled.

Back to work, he thought. Finally.


End file.
